


if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again

by she_who_the_river_could_not_hold



Series: Troped: Fic Challenge [12]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, Bellamy and Octavia didn’t start out with the delinquents, Canon Divergent, F/M, Protective!Bellamy, Westernized Canon, doctor!clarke, finn's role is pretty much nonexistent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-15 07:40:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29185671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold/pseuds/she_who_the_river_could_not_hold
Summary: The wild west is unforgiving. Bellamy Blake and his sister are on the run with a bounty on their heads, and that’s just the beginning. They stumble upon a town that’s on the verge of ruin, plagued by a mysterious illness and only populated by other teenagers. With help from both Blake siblings, the town’s leader is hopeful that they can help discover the root of what’s going. And maybe Clarke Griffin will in turn help Bellamy discover more about himself along the way.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Octavia Blake/Lincoln (mentioned)
Series: Troped: Fic Challenge [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1524449
Comments: 16
Kudos: 55
Collections: TROPED Choice: Western!





	if the morning light sets in, we've cheated fate again

**Author's Note:**

> Yee-haw bitches and welcome to the first official round of 2021 of Troped, the fic challenge previously known as Chopped: The 100! For this round my theme is **Westernized Canon** , using the plot from season one’s “I am Become Death” (with a few scenes stolen from surrounding episodes). Also featuring unofficial southwestern gothic vibes and some hand-wavy science. For my tropes I’m utilizing:
> 
>   1. Ghost Town/Outlaw Town
>   2. Protectiveness
>   3. Bandits
>   4. Found Family
> 

> 
> **A genre disclaimer:** Westerns and the 100’s canon both share extremely problematic and incorrect portrayals of race. In this fic, while the Grounders still exist, they are operating more as individual factions of people who live on their own (akin to the clans in _Mad Max: Fury Road_ ) versus using them as a stand-in for any of the Native American tribes who were treated horrifically during those times.
> 
> Title comes from the song “Go Get Your Gun” by The Dear Hunter.
> 
>  **\+ Update!** Thank you so much to everyone who voted! This fic won second place in both use of theme and overall!! I'm so glad people have been enjoying it and I can't wait to respond to the comments. In the meantime, I've posted the moodboard for this fic [here](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.tumblr.com/post/642575476788019200/if-the-morning-light-sets-in-weve-cheated-fate) on my Tumblr!

Bellamy Blake was, by nature, not a particularly superstitious person. But sometimes omens were so clear, they were impossible to ignore.

Stretching out in front of him and his sister was a mass cemetery. Graves scattered about the dirt, haphazard crosses stuck into the ground at the head of each mound. Sloppily dug graves at that, mismatched in size and direction. These hadn’t been burials overseen by a minister or a government body. These were graves dug by inexperienced hands in what must have been an act of desperation to give some level of peace to the bodies that filled the barren earth below. The wind whistled around them, an eerie silence accompanying the early desert morning around them.

“O, I don’t have a good feeling about this,” he called out to his sister, lowering the bandana he usually wore over his mouth while they rode so that she could better hear him. Octavia was just ahead of him, her curiosity piqued more than her fear and clearly not as bothered as he was by it all. Her horse leaned over to sniff at one of the crosses. 

“Did you hear me?” He asked impatiently. Beneath him, his own horse shifted his weight anxiously as if he could feel his rider’s nerves. 

“I heard you,” she yelled back. Adjusting her reins, she turned slightly in her saddle to face him. “And what would you have us do? We haven’t eaten in at least a day; our water supply is low. You really don’t want to get help because of a bunch of what...? Dead bodies? That’s all that’s out here in this god forsaken land.”

He pursed his lips, but he didn’t have a strong retort for her comment. She wasn’t wrong. For as promising as the east tried to sell this area to convince people to travel westward, it was an unforgiving area. The brutality could be felt at all angles, bearing down and reminding the newcomers of who was really in charge out here.

“With this many graves, do you really think this town even has anyone left?”

Bellamy could see her waiver for a second before shaking her head. 

“It’s worth a shot.” 

She didn’t leave any room for an argument.

The town certainly looked abandoned the closer they got. Ramshackle buildings, dilapidated from absence of any sort of maintenance. Some didn’t even look properly built, echoing the inexperience of the cemetery out front. A similar chill ran down Bellamy’s spine as they slowly moved deeper into it. There was something wrong here, something off that he couldn’t put his finger on. Despite the early heat that pressed down onto them, the vast and clear blue sky not blocking the sun at all, that shiver remained in him. Quenching his thirst seemed trivial against the shadows that clung to this town. He’d read about ghost towns before, towns driven to become shells from famine or attacks from Grounders. This must be one of them. 

“O, I really think we––”

A gunshot split the air and cut off his words. The bullet ricocheted off of a copper pot that was beside them on one of the porches. Just a few feet over and it would have drilled into him or his horse.

Apollo let out a panicked whinny, jerking in his hands and Bellamy fought to control him as he and Octavia both pulled their own guns out in response. The sound of the shot sounded like a rifle––bigger than their handguns but slower to reload, so they might still be able to regain the upper hand despite being caught off guard. 

“Don’t come any closer!” A voice yelled out. Octavia looked at him cautiously but they both pulled their horses to a halt in the middle of the dirt street.

“We’re just here for some water, if you have any to spare,” Bellamy yelled back. His eyes darted back and forth, squinting even underneath the brim of his hat. He couldn’t see anyone.

“Is that so?” the voice replied, a clear tone of distrust coating the question. 

It sounded like it could belong to a woman, but Bellamy still couldn’t see anything or anyone. So communicating with a disembodied voice was their best bet. 

One more reason to feel unease about this town.

“Bell, I have a feeling these people won’t rat us out,” came a hiss to his left from Octavia. “Law-abiding citizens don’t just shoot at strangers. Even paranoid ones.”

He weighed their options. Revealing themselves felt dangerous, too dangerous, but they were also currently being held up at gunpoint by a person they couldn’t even see. It might be their best chance and maybe they’d seen the posters. Or they hadn’t yet and when you lived in a ghost town surrounded by graves this was how you greeted people. Octavia was probably right. It looked like the truth might be their best course of action. Or at least their most optimistic, despite the circumstances.

“We’re on the run,” he shouted, his voice echoing throughout the empty street as if taunting him. Reminding him about the danger that he’d put the two of them in, his sister not even asking for it. “We simply need some more supplies before we head out on our way. We have no interest in our bounty reaching your town.”

A drawn out silence followed. Just when he thought it was a lost cause, that at any point he’d feel bullets rip through his chest, a movement caught his eye.

A young woman stepped out into the street, emerging from the shadows of one of the porches.

Her rifle remained aimed at them, though her posture was more relaxed than someone completely still with her defenses up. At first glance she could have just been an average young woman in any town, but too many observations weren’t adding up. Too much felt off. In part, unruly long blonde hair was pulled back into a braid but most distinctly, her dark gray dress was covered in blood that crept its way up in splatters against the fabric.

Octavia’s horse Helios let out a low noise from the back of his throat, kicking at the dirt with his hoof as if he’d just noticed it as well.

“It’s not mine,” she said drily. She’d picked up on the discomfort shared between the two siblings.

“Personal or medical?” Snarked Octavia and Bellamy inwardly groaned. The other girl, most likely around eighteen like his sister was, didn’t seem offended by the question or the insinuation that she might just be killing people for fun. A tight-lipped smile slowly appeared on her face and she lowered her gun all of the way down.

“Medical. We’re having a bit of a crisis at the moment.”

_We?_

Just before Bellamy could ask, he slowly began to hear noises around them. Twisting his neck each way, he watched as faces popped out of the shadows of the buildings he’d assumed had been abandoned. Almost all of them belonged to young adults, similar in age range between him and his sister. A few much younger, childlike faces as well. Not a single person that he could reckon was actually older than him appeared.

“What is this place?” He whispered, more to himself than anyone else, as he looked around. 

The girl cocked her head towards a large building to their side––by the looks of it, it had once been a saloon. “How about we talk in there? And we might as well get you two some rations while you’re here.” 

Once inside, Bellamy let out a long breath as he was hit with the cooler interior. They’d been riding for days now, and even though the desert nights could be cold, the scorching heat was impossible to fully escape. It had been so long since he’d been inside that he almost didn’t know what to do with himself. While his eyes adjusted to the lighting change as well, he could hear the sound of whispered voices and scraping chairs against the wood floor. Blinking rapidly seconds later, he took in their new surroundings.

It had indeed been a saloon at one point, a few bottles still sparsely lining wooden shelves behind the bar. But the tables and chairs that would have at one point seated a raucous crowd, were now being used as makeshift beds and what looked like might be an operating table. Bodies of more teenagers were laying out on tables that had been pushed together, weak coughs occasionally filling the space.

“Are you trying to get us sick?” Snapped Octavia’s voice behind him. He felt his hackles rise the more he looked around them. They’d been led right into a trap.

But the young woman shook her head, frowning at them. 

“These are the ones who have recovered, you’re not in danger of getting sick from them,” she explained as she rested the rifle on top of the bar. “Just don’t go in the surrounding buildings. Those are the ones who were quarantined.”

“What happened here? Are all of those graves… from whatever this is?” 

“Slow down their cowboy,” she replied with a smirk. Bellamy ruffled at that (though couldn’t help but admit it was a good look on a face he’d only seen scowling so far). She thrust a glass bottle in their direction.

“Water first. I can tell from the gravel in your throat and the way both of your lips are chapped that neither of you have had much to drink recently. Then we’ll talk.” 

That was hard to argue against, so Bellamy passed it over to Octavia who knocked back a swig before he followed suit.

“Names?” She prompted once they’d both wet their whistles. Bellamy almost didn’t want to use their real names, but they’d already told her they were on the run. If one of their wanted posters floated this way, she’d recognize them in a heartbeat.

But that was all they could get out before they’re interrupted.

“Clarke!” A guy burst into the saloon, his hair bouncing as he bounded in. Ah, so the blonde was _Clarke_. Bellamy allowed himself only a second to think about how much it suited her. 

“Murphy said he wants to talk to you,” he let out in a pant, his eyes glancing over at the two Blakes with confusion before settling back on Clarke. The scowl returned to her face.

Bellamy interjected before he could help himself, cutting into the conversation. “Murphy? As in John Murphy?”

Clarke and the guy paused, her eyes trained directly on him while the guy just stared at her. 

“Do you know him?” She demanded. The tone was natural to her, as if she’d never been told no in her life. A trait he would have scoffed at before this if he hadn’t seen arms and dress covered in blood and the lives she was trying to save.

“Our paths only crossed for a brief time,” he growled. Clarke’s cautious curiosity turned to intrigue at the tone of his voice.

“In that case, you might be even better suited to question him than me. Wait here,” she instructed the boy with the long hair before turning back to Bellamy. “Come with me.”

Outside of Octavia, he wasn’t used to taking orders so he was just as surprised as his sister when he followed the blonde outside. He shot a quick look over to her and O shrugged, seemingly confused but not paranoid enough to stop him from splitting them up.

Back outside, Clarke was waiting for him on the porch. He couldn’t stop noticing new details in her, like the way the tip of her nose was pink from what must have been a sunburn, dirt beneath her fingertips. She had the air of a leader, but she’d clearly been at work with the rest of them. Once he was fully out, she jerked her head towards the other side of town and began to stride away. He hadn’t figured out exactly what he was doing yet and well, he hadn’t actually figured out a lot of things yet. So regardless of how short this walk might end up being, he figured it was time for some questions of his own now that he wasn’t staring down a rifle.

“Do we need to be worried? Is your quarantine working? Those graves...” he gestured roughly in the direction behind them.

“Not all of those bodies are from the illness,” Clarke said simply. He looked sharply over at her.

“They’re not?”

She shook her head. “If you can name it, it killed someone. Rattlesnake bites, wandering off and dying of dehydration only for us to find their body a week later. Some of them are family members.” She cast a long glance at him before looking away. “Only one or two murders, though that’s been taken care of.”

“Murders?” He echoed in disbelief. 

“It’s not that bad,” she responded with a huff. “We’re just still figuring out punishments and early on one or two people felt like playing with fire––”

“Clarke,” Bellamy snapped, reaching out and grabbing her shoulder and bringing her to a stop. “What’s really going on, why are there no adults here? Why are you having to dole out punishments or rules?”

To his surprise, the strong expression that she’d been wearing immediately faltered and a glint from the glaring sunshine highlighted tears that sprung up to the corner of her eyes. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he’d asked what he thought was a reasonable question. But it had brought up in an emotion in Clarke that he hadn’t seen coming.

“They’re all dead,” she blurted out bluntly. “A mining explosion. This town wasn’t even finished yet but we’d all been out here to create a new settlement. Most of them died in the same mine, the wives being sent in to finish what the men hadn’t. Some had been sent out to scout out another location and we’ve never heard back from them. They’re probably all dead too.”

She looked away abruptly, wiping at her eyes with the sleeve of her dress as if she didn’t want Bellamy to see the moment of emotion. As if she was being weak.

“Were your parents…?” He didn’t know how to finish his question.

She jerked her head in a rough nod. 

“My mother was the doctor assigned to the scouting group. My father died in the first explosion, even after he warned the company that the air wasn’t safe.” 

He couldn’t find the words to comfort her. He knew from personal experience there wouldn’t be any that gave her what she’d need, so all he could do was stay silent.

“Anyway, that’s why it’s just us now,” she carried on, readjusting her posture and rolling her shoulders back. “We’re finding a way to live on our own. We don’t have enough resources to go back home, and frankly none of us want to. They left us out here to die and they knowingly sent our parents to their death just so they could get more gold.” 

The sadness that had cloaked her disappeared as a new fiery rage replaced it. Her eyes flashed with anger as she described the injustices they’d been through and while the extensive cemetery remained haunting, it now took on a more forlorn feel to Bellamy now. The amateur quality of the graves was because it was children burying their own parents and their peers, too young to know what that felt like. He was once again reminded of the harshness of this unexplored territory and wondered if the older generations would come to regret this expansion out west. 

“And then what’s going on now?” He gestured around them. “This sickness?” 

“This illness came just recently, I couldn’t find anything about it in my mother’s books she brought out with her. But it’s timed with when Murphy came back, which is why I want to talk to him. I have an inkling of an idea but he’s been too out of it to speak to until now.”

With that, the conversation was clearly paused and she turned on her heel to stalk deeper into town. Bellamy followed, watching as the groups of teens thinned out and they eventually reached what appeared to be a holding cell, a one-room jail.

“It was one of the first things they built before dying,” Clarke muttered to him as she reached forward to yank the door open.

It was even darker than the saloon, blessedly cooler which was most likely an unintentional relief to anyone who was in it. It smelled of overturned dirt and blood and once Bellamy’s eyes adjusted, he spotted who he realized really was John Murphy in the corner.

He’d been badly beaten. His hair was stringy with sweat and what might have been clumped up blood and dirt. One of his eyes swelled with the remnants of a black eye and a dark, blackened blood stained his mouth. He almost didn’t move when they walked in and for a split second, he wondered if they hadn’t made it in time. But then he let out a rattling cough and the not-so-swollen eye opened and landed on them. First just Clarke, but then he picked up on the fact that he was also there. 

“Blake?” Murphy let out a wheeze when he spotted him behind Clarke. It took Bellamy a moment to realize that it was a laugh. 

“Never thought I’d see you again.”

“Likewise,” Bellamy responded drily. “Who got to you?” 

His memory of Murphy was that he was cunning, slippery. Not someone so easily caught. Murphy’s one eye settled back on Clarke.

“I was banished,” he gritted out through his teeth. To her credit, Clarke remained silent though her eyes narrowed at him.

“You probably deserved it,” he quickly snapped, disliking the way the two were glaring at each other. It looked like they wanted more of a fight than anything but Clarke had originally mentioned wanting to question him. And _that_ was what they were going to do. “Now tell us, what happened to you? Who got to you?”

Murphy’s split lip curled up. 

“Murphy,” Bellamy growled. “Those other kids, they’re dying out there.” He stilled at that, doing his best to look disinterested but Bellamy could see the way he warily eyed them. 

“You’re a lot of things, but I know you’re not a killer.”

He could barely make out the way Clarke sucked in her breath at his words, turning away just slightly as Murphy’s gaze flicked to her and then back again. 

They waited, only the sound of wind whistling through the gaps in the wood filling the silence. 

“Mount Weather,” he finally spat out. “I was wandering for a while after they banished me. Some scouts from Mount Weather got me, I guess trying to find a way around Trikru and they recognized me. Did a number on me. Guess it was retaliation for the mineshaft. I don’t know why they thought I had any sway in refusing their offer to come back out though.” His eye landed back on Clarke. “When it became clear I wasn’t going to be able to help them, they all took turns beating the shit out of me. Then one night, they forgot to lock up my handcuffs again and I took off.”

Bellamy’s stomach rolled at the visual that Murphy’s words conjured up. Mount Weather, the prestigious mining corporation from back East, had been salivating at the potential in the untouched desert. They were notorious; everyone knew who they were. The gold was dwindling so most of their operations had turned to oil, but they must have been determined to scavenge for the last remains of the precious metal. He hadn’t put two and two together at Clarke’s earlier comment about the mining explosion. But of course it was Mount Weather. No other company was so willing to risk the lives of its workers for profit. 

Even Clarke looked uncomfortable, despite it being at her hand that Murphy had been banished. No doubt she hadn’t thought he’d fall into a trap like that.

“They just… let you go?” She asked cautiously. Murphy nodded. She didn’t seem to like that answer, skepticism rolling off of her in waves. Just when he was going to ask her what was up, she shook her head. 

“If that’s the case then, we have enough. Come on,” she nudged Bellamy towards the door. She’d clearly made up her mind about something. 

Suddenly Murphy’s arm snapped out, grabbing at Clarke’s bare hand with his dirt and blood covered one. Bellamy immediately stepped back and in closer to her, ready to pull him off of her. She didn’t immediately recoil though. Maybe the medical work she’d been having to do had made her immune to the feel of grime and death. 

“I thought I was free, you have to understand that,” he pleaded. Even his bruised eye was open at this point. “I wouldn’t have ever brought something back if I had known.”

He and Clarke held their gaze for a long while, Bellamy anxiously on edge in the middle of them. Murphy must have seen some type of answer to an unspoken question in Clarke’s eyes though, because minutes later he slowly retracted his hand without Bellamy having to intervene.

They hurried back out into the sunlight.

He wanted to ask Clarke what had happened to make her send Murphy out into that vastness. A certain death wish hung in the air of the unpopulated parts of the desert and it was impossible to know which part of nature would get you first. 

It must have been bad, whatever he’d been involved in.

But even as he fought to figure out the words to the question, the arrival of two new people cut him off. Well, technically just one new person. He recognized the guy from earlier––neither him nor Bellamy felt too pleased about it.

“This is Finn and Raven,” Clarke introduced, gesturing between the two and back to Bellamy. Each of them gave their own curt nod. He didn’t need words though to pick up on the palpable tension between the three and he could feel his curiosity peak its head out. There wasn’t time now to figure it out, but hopefully once this was all over he’d be able to.

“Still no word back from our last telegraph,” the young woman named Raven announced, sparing Bellamy only a quick nod before focusing in on what she’d come over for. 

“Which makes Murphy’s knowledge that much more important,” piped up Finn. “Did he say anything yet?”

“Bellamy was able to get information out of him.”

Clarke’s statement caused the other two to fully look at him now.

“Mount Weather’s the one who got him,” he explained. “Did quite the number on him but he said he assumes they accidentally forgot to lock him back up and that’s how he escaped.”

“Which,” Clarke followed up as if they did this every day, “is too much of a coincidence for me to trust it. This illness started the same day he got back. I had a theory earlier, but now I’m convinced that somehow Mount Weather sent us this through Murphy. Some type of retaliation.” 

Everyone grew somber at her declaration.

“Also we need someone to take Murphy to quarantine,” she added quickly before they could dwell too much on what she’d said. 

“Are you serious?” Finn demanded, looking back and forth between him and Clarke as if they’d somehow conspired with this together. Bellamy could only shrug; he hadn’t been a part of this idea.

Clarke nodded emphatically though.

“He––well, he’s been through enough. And he’s definitely sick, so there’s no reason to keep him separate if he’s sick. And after what he went through, he deserves a second chance.”

“Clarke, are you sure? I mean––”

“Yes,” she cut off Finn with a glare. “We banished him for a reason: so that we wouldn’t kill him. He was punished even harsher by Mount Weather, I’m not leaving him to die out here.”

If he had any other issues with it, Finn didn’t voice them. Instead, he nodded and began to make his way back into town. Raven studied the two of them carefully before beginning to follow. Beside him, Clarke let out a long sigh before hoisting up her skirt to quickly follow. 

“What do you want me and Octavia to do?” He called out. He caught Clarke by surprise, he could see it in the way she turned before she schooled herself into her neutral self again. No wonder it was the state she tried to stay in the most, now that he understood what they were all up against and with only her in charge.

“Are you sticking around then?” She arched her eyebrows, a hint of a smile gracing her features.

He looked around them and then back at her. “It looks like you need all of the help you can get.” 

Maybe it wasn’t the most appropriate time to crack a joke, though it was all his instincts knew how to do. Clarke seemed to relate, that faint smile turning into a full one as she laughed to herself. 

“Well come on then. Let’s put you two to work.”

The four hurried back. Octavia was pacing outside the saloon, waiting impatiently for them.

“What’s going on?” She went from frustrated to concerned in the span of a second once she caught everyone’s expressions.

“Clarke had a theory that Mount Weather is the one poisoning them, somehow transmitted through Murphy,” he explained as Clarke nodded in confirmation. Raven muttered something to her about working on bullet rations and disappeared. Finn looked torn between the two women before going off in a completely different direction. If they hadn’t had this looming over their heads, Bellamy would have found it entertaining. As it was though, the guy’s passiveness was grating. 

“We need to know for sure though. Somehow get an in, someone to go find out if it’s true,” Clarke continued on.

The three fell silent as they contemplated their next move. There were a few moments of silence before Bellamy could feel his sister shifting her weight next to him. A quick glance over at her clued him into the idea that she was forming and he almost didn’t even need her to speak before she said what he had a feeling she was going to say.

“Lincoln would probably know.” Octavia gave him a knowing look.

He sighed. 

“Lincoln?” Clarke asked curiously, looking between the two siblings. 

“My partner,” Octavia explained quickly. “He’s a part of Trikru. They have connections with a lot of the forts, he might have some inside knowledge if something is going on. I haven’t seen him since we went on the run, but their camp is only about a few hours ride from here if I’ve correctly deduced where we are. I could go and talk with him.”

Clarke’s eyes lit up. “If you think you could manage that, that would be really useful for us.”

“I don’t know,” grumbled Bellamy instinctively. He still was trying to come to terms with his sister’s relationship. It wasn’t that he was opposed to Lincoln being from Trikru; there was nothing wrong with the Grounders. It was partially the idea that his sister was old enough to even be with someone, let alone someone who was _definitely_ older than her. But he’d also gotten her roped into this chaos the day he’d gone on the run so far be it from him to try and restrict her.

Octavia glowered at him, no stranger to his critiques, while Clarke turned apprehensive as well.

“Bellamy, any information at all is needed. We can’t keep fighting this blind. I know your sister isn’t a part of our camp but I highly suggest that she go out and do this. That is, if you two are really planning on helping us.”

Bellamy clenched his jaw at the insistence.

He understood that it was the right thing to do, as much as he also understood his sister wasn’t really looking for his permission with this. But it still made him nervous. He didn’t like the idea of his sister going out there, now knowing that they were all potentially up against something even bigger than the warrant on his head. But he also could relate to the need to do the right thing, even if it put yourself in danger. 

So he gave a curt nod in resignation.

“Go, get to him as quickly as you can. Avoid all the main passages, don’t get near any civilization.”

“So the usual,” she teased kindly, nudging him a bit with her shoulder. He bit back a laugh at that. She wasn’t wrong.

With that then, with a freshly filled canteen, Octavia swung herself back up onto Helios. Her hat’s brim was pulled down low and one of the girls had helped her refresh her braids to keep her hair out of her face, now with the bandana pulled back up. He was reminded that she was far from the little girl who he’d chased around all of those years growing up. That final thought on his mind, he waved her off at the edge of the cemetery and watched as she disappeared into the day’s shimmer of the edge of the horizon. 

Per Clarke’s instructions to him, he passed along commands to some of the eager teens that were still healthy enough to work. She’d affectionately referred to them as delinquents before disappearing back into the saloon to check in on those were ill. He liked the nickname; it suited this ragtag group of survivors. So he quickly made his way through everyone, getting names and doling out tasks. If this was a potential attack, they’d need to mend the parts of town that were falling down. 

None of this was a perfect set up, but he was impressed with the dedication that was he was already seeing. And so far they’d only had to send two more people into quarantine as the sun slowly moved across the sky, hours passing them by.

He heard the saloon door swing open and his ears pricked up, turning to see Clarke walking out onto the porch. She looked exhausted, no longer using a mask around him to hide her emotions. She was wiping her hands on her apron and she gave him a half-smile when she caught his gaze.

“You got enough supplies in there? Food? Water?”

She let out a slight cough. “Some medicine would be nice.”

His own smile quirked up in his lips at her attempt at a joke. Trying her best despite everything getting thrown at her right now.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he responded, ducking his head to hide his grin the best he could.

She nodded and turned to go back inside. He knew that he was letting his eyes linger on her for too long, observing her too closely for someone he just met, but he couldn’t help himself. And then it turned out that it was good he was, because he was the only one who saw the slight stumble in her step as she lost her balance. He wasn’t sure what instinct it was that kicked in. Certainly, there was a rational part of him that wanted to protect people. But this felt different. His protection was usually to those only close to him and with all honesty, that usually only extended to Octavia. 

It was without any hesitation though that he lunged forward, his arms catching Clarke just before she could hit the compact earth beneath them. 

Without any sort of proper distance between them, he could now see the ashen way her face had paled and the beaded sweat that adorned her brow. Even with the red rim growing around her eyes, barely visible as her eyelids fluttered in and out with her consciousness, she still was startlingly pretty. He quickly shook away that thought, _now wasn’t the time_.

“She needs to quarantine,” he barked out as an order over his shoulder. No one questioned him stepping into the role. He could hear feet scurrying around him but his focus remained on Clarke. “What building is best?”

“This one,” a light touch came to his elbow, “follow me.”

Hoisting Clarke higher up into his arms, cradling her body against his chest, Bellamy followed the guy he’d been introduced to as Monty towards the building to the right of the saloon. 

It was a house, or had been at one point. An upright piano was shoved into a corner, a chaise lounge turned into a blood-stained bed for a groaning individual. In his arms, Clarke’s head rolled against his shoulder, her limbs entirely limp. He could feel his heart thudding against his chest, anxiety spreading throughout him as he followed Monty to an open place on the floor and gently laid her down. 

“Put your bandana on.” Monty’s voice broke through Bellamy’s clouded thoughts and he jerked his head up. Monty was holding up his own shirt, covering his nose and mouth and he nodded towards the bandana still tied around Bellamy’s neck. He belatedly yanked it up, his eyes returning back to Clarke’s now sleeping form. 

“She’ll just have to rest for now, someone will check in on her,” encouraged the teen next to him. Bellamy ignored him.

Sighing, knowing it was a futile argument, Monty gave him a sympathetic pat on his shoulder and rose up to leave.

It had only been a few minutes, though it felt longer, before Clarke suddenly jerked awake. 

She looked around in a panic as he scrambled to get closer to her, to let her know she was okay. She then seemingly became aware that it was him that had brought her in.

“Bellamy, stay back,” she commanded, though her voice weaker than he’d grown used to. She looked back into the corner of the living room and his eyes followed, landing on Murphy slumped back in the corner watching them. 

“Did he do something to you?” He swore, taking a step closer to her despite her original instruction. A fury ripped through him faster than he could acknowledge. A flashback hit him of the two of them, fighting each other for scraps in Mecha. How far they’d come now. 

She shook her head. “Don’t blame him. I don’t know if it moves that quickly, but I’ve been working with sick people the past three days. I just don’t want you to get sick.”

That was fair, so he relaxed his glare at Murphy. He hadn’t meant to be so defensive and somehow Murphy seemed to understand that with a lingering gaze between the two of them. 

The person in the chaise lounge suddenly convulsed, more blood slipping from his mouth and onto the floor. Both Bellamy and Clarke winced.

And then he looked back at a bloody stare from Clarke.

He let out a swear that would have made even the most hardened bandit flinch, reaching up to her face. But he let his hand fall just short, unable to bring himself to touch her cheek.

“Clarke––your eyes.”

She blinked rapidly at him until it dawned on her what he was staring at, slowly reaching up and touching her skin. She pulled it away with a bright red adorning it. There was blood dripping from her eyes.

“Bellamy, get away from me,” she choked out, looking up at him in a panic. He couldn’t stop looking at her in horror but he also didn’t move an inch. This feeling was strange. He could feel it mirroring in her, a desperation to protect the other even though they’d just barely met.

“Bellamy, please,” she tried again. “I can’t have you get sick either. Take charge, they’ll listen to you. We need to prepare ourselves in case the Wallaces get out here. Talk to Raven. I just… I just need to rest.”

The mention of the rest of the group was what pulled him back to himself, as much as he wanted to stay by her side. Her pleading to rest was too similar to his mother’s final words for him to feel completely at ease, but he understood duty. He understood that her people needed to be protected and that she somehow trusted him to be the one to do it. So he nodded, feeling like he was submerged under water, and slowly stood back up. Eyes locking over on Murphy, who was watching them like a caged animal, he jerked his head.

“Let me know if he gives you any trouble.”

Clarke nodded and he could see that she was doing her best to stay confident. Knowing he’d only actually annoy her if he stayed behind, Bellamy forced himself to stride out of the house and back outside. 

He hadn’t realized how much brighter it was out here, the bright blue sky a harsh contrast against the turmoil in the town. He squinted as he looked around, realizing that some of the teens were looking at him expectantly. Oh right, they’d just seen him carry their collapsed leader in there and now they were looking at him. 

Just like Clarke had said they would.

His teeth ground down on the grit and sand that seemed to always live on him these days. Looking around him, he was torn with discouragement and hope. These were all just kids, barely young adults at best. They were struggling enough to live on their own as it was; let alone fight against some type of illness. Almost none of them seemed to have any training. But they had to figure something out, to prevent more people from dying. To strengthen themselves before they became a true ghost town with no one left to bury the dead amongst the cacti.

The sound of heavy hooves hitting the ground interrupted his thoughts, breaking through the air as Octavia’s horse suddenly came into view as the two of them galloped into the town. Everyone parted, allowing her to pull to the side of the porch alongside Bellamy. Swinging herself off of Helios, she hopped up and jogged over to him.

“Licoln confirmed it all,” she said breathlessly. “There have been rumblings amongst Trikru and the other Grounders. Mount Weather has been spreading out, one of their people on the inside at the fort was able to get intel back that they’re planning on destroying all of this land tomorrow. This is just their way of getting rid of most of the casualties before they even arrive.”

“He also recognized what this sounded like. He said Trikru’s been hit by it before,” she snarled at the last bit. “There’s no cure but even with some people dying, most will make it out. Just weak for a little while, you have to wait it out.”

“We need to find a way to delay them, give us time to get back on our feet,” Bellamy finished her thought and Octavia nodded along. They were thinking the same thing.

“So then what?” Interjected Finn. He’d come up alongside them and as much as Bellamy wasn’t sure he liked the guy, he appreciated his eagerness to be involved. You needed people like that.

Bellamy’s gaze swept across the portion of the town around them, catching each person’s eyes that were zeroed in on him. He had to fire off the cuff, hoping against hope they’d all listen to him.

So he dug deep, calling out to those still healthy enough to surround him. He reiterated their findings, watched as fear crossed through each of them. But before it settled, he switched to a more inspirational message. Reminding them who had kept this town going, even with the deaths of their parents. Who was toiling to keep themselves safe against nature and fellow humans. The words flowed from him with unexpected ease. Octavia was watching him with pride, rather than the resentment he’d felt between them these last couple days on the run, and her support only fueled him.

He practically stumbled backwards once his words were complete and the crowd had let up a cheer, eager to get to work to do what they had to do to protect themselves.

Bellamy then turned to Finn.

“Show me where Raven is.”

She was surrounded by bullets, each dissected in half to increase the amount. It felt as ominous as the graves had when they’d first arrived, but he couldn’t let himself fixate on that.

“What’s going on?” She asked gruffly, irritated at the interruption but growing more concerned as him and Finn rushed in. 

“Don’t worry about the bullets right now, it won’t matter if there’s no one left who can shoot,” Finn said grimly, passing along the information that Raven had missed from Octavia’s time with Lincoln. 

Bellamy eyed him warily but let him speak.

“What do we need to build a bomb? Or do we have any dynamite laying around by any chance?”

His question equally startled Bellamy and Raven, the later jerking her head to look up at him. 

“Depends on what you’re trying to blow up,” she responded slowly. 

Finn looked between the two, as well as stealing a glance over to Monty and Jasper who were looking at him curiously as well.

“How about a bridge?” He offered, a flare of excitement crossing over his expression. “Do you all know the tracks that cross the Floukru Pass? Over that river?”

They all nodded. Bellamy and Octavia had easily lost a day on their trek out of Polis to find a way around it, unable to risk taking the tracks across. Too high up, too risky of a train coming out of nowhere with nothing on either side of them.

“It’s how anyone gets over here; it’s how they’ll come here for us. Blowing it up won’t stop any sort of move from them forever, but it’ll certainly delay it. And the longer we delay it, the more people we’ll have to help us protect our land.”

Raven pursed her lips, contemplating it.

“Do you think after everything that the bridge has withstood, from rainstorms and dust storms, it’ll just fall like that? It’s survived a lot, it’s built to last,” Bellamy couldn’t help but ask skeptically. 

“It won’t survive me,” Raven quickly interjected. Confidence rolled off of her in waves and everyone else could only look at each other and nod. 

It was time to get to work.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” Clarke laughed hoarsely, “you’re going to do what?”

“I told you, we’re blowing up the tracks that cross over the Floukru Pass,” Bellamy repeated with a grin. She rolled her eyes at his excitement, but he could tell even in the dim lighting that she was smiling.

Dusk would begin to settle amongst the vast desert soon. As hot as the day had been, a chill now crept across. But Bellamy didn’t mind it, thankful for the break from the heat. They’d spent a couple hours, crammed into the tiny shed that Raven worked in, outfitting more bullets for the few rifles they had on hand while she carefully constructed a bomb. It had been tedious, quiet work, and he’d had a leg cramp less than halfway through from sitting so scrunched up. Now, he welcomed the break and had his legs stretched out in front of him as Clarke caught him up.

The house had a couple front windows and he’d pulled up a rocking chair alongside one. It had taken some arguing with Clarke that it was safe to at least crack the window somewhat so they didn’t have to shout through the pane of glass, but she’d eventually agreed to it. As naturally as it had felt taking on a leadership role, he wanted to still at least let Clarke know everything that was about to happen before it did.

“Only Raven would be that confident,” she mused. “You mentioned someone has to shoot it though?” That brought some concern to her face. “Who’s doing it? Miller?” 

“No, I am.”

Her face grew troubled.

“Bellamy, you don’t have to do that.”

“Why not?”

She chewed on her lip, studying him. “I mean, why would you want to? These aren’t your people. Not that I don’t appreciate your help,” she rushed to add on, “but I just don’t know why you’d want to.”

He fell silent at her question, looking around them. From here, he could see some of the delinquents working on fixing up the buildings. Fortifying structures and creating better hiding spots should their small town be invaded. He could see Monty and Jasper working with a girl named Harper he’d been introduced to, the three of them passing out guns to the older of the kids. And then Clarke, sitting beside him at the window. 

A pang of longing struck his gut. 

Fort Mecha, the place he and Octavia were on the run from, had never truly felt like home. 

But somehow, this group of delinquents fighting to live on their own against all odds, did feel like home. 

“It’s the right thing to do,” he settled on. 

He couldn’t place the way she was looking at him, but it was with an earnestness that he almost felt like he didn’t deserve. In an effort to not be entirely distracted by it, he did his best to change the subject. Not that he was able to stray too far from his concern.

“And you’re feeling better?” He asked softly. Clarke looked back over at him, smiling slightly.

She nodded. “I am. Whatever amount of it I was exposed to doesn’t feel as strong as it does in others. Or maybe my body just isn’t as impacted. I have a feeling within twenty-four hours I’ll be feeling even better, along with most everyone else.”

He hoped she was right. He could barely let that bubble of hope swell up, despite her attempt to assuage his nerves.

“Bellamy, are you ready?” Raven’s voice broke through his thoughts. He twisted in his seat to see her carefully holding the explosive she’d carefully constructed. She jerked her head towards the entrance after spotting Clarke in the window. “I’ll see you at the gate.”

“You should go,” Clarke said, her voice quiet but encouraging. He stole a look at her and almost blushed when he realized how steadily she was staring at him. “And thank you for agreeing to do this.”

Bellamy had experienced his fair-share of more experimental moments in dark corners, but in this very moment he was tongue-tied. Curse this strange, fiery young woman who he’d quite literally stumbled upon.

A part of him had always resented the idea that he might be a romantic. Despite how much his mother had urged him to believe it was a good thing, it had felt like a thorn in his side. This world out west was unforgiving. Even he and Octavia tugged at the responsibility they had to each other because of their shared blood, loving and sometimes resenting each other. 

But in that moment as he stood up to go, Bellamy almost placed his palm against the glass in hopes that Clarke would match it. As some type of last goodbye if something went wrong with the explosion and this didn’t end the way anyone wanted it to.

Instead he cleared his throat and nodded, catching her faint smirk as if she could tell what he was thinking. As if she was confident that they’d see each other again and that their stories were far from done intertwining. 

His horse was waiting patiently for him, Raven there as well guiding a sleek black horse with her. It matched the way her hair was tightly pulled back and he wondered if everyone in this strange town had found a way to integrate themselves with the land and its inhabitants. It was a thought he kept to himself though as he swung himself up, hoisting himself into the saddle. And with a kick, they were off.

Most of the ride was silent. Bellamy tried to use the sounds of the desert evening to relax his nerves, to steady his racing heartbeat. The distant sounds of wildlife emerging as the temperatures dropped, a collective relief found by all as the sun dipped lower and lower. Oversized cacti turned into silhouettes against the sunset, their spikes masked by twilight. They’d have to be extra careful to stay on the shallow rode, avoiding snake holes or any other prickly snares that were obscured from the glow of the lanterns that they’d brought with them in case it became completely dark before they were back.

They were nearly halfway there when Raven shifted in her saddle to turn and look at him.

“I heard Finn mention you and your sister are on the run. What for? And don’t worry,” she added at his apprehensive stare, “a lot of us have criminal backgrounds. This mining town was supposed to be a fresh start, not a mass burial.” 

He weighed his options of the truth or not, but there was no reason to lie about it.

“I killed Jaha, the mayor back in Arkadia. About a fortnight ago,” he explained shortly. He didn’t want to get into the logistics of it. How his family couldn’t afford their housing anymore even in Mecha, his mother’s failing health making her unable to mend soldiers' uniforms anymore. The simple bribe it had taken after her death, from a man who’d come to his fort for the sole purpose of finding a killer.

If he’d expected horror or judgement from Raven, he didn’t get it. 

She just looked at him incredulously. 

“Well, you’re a lousy shot then. We’ve been in communication with Jaha, or at least some of his people. Arkadia is the only place we trust and we’re hoping to eventually establish a trade route with them and broker a peace treaty between them and Trikru.”

He could only stare at her in surprise.

“Maybe you weren’t the best shot to bring out for this,” she teased, giving him a smirk as she nudged her horse into a faster pace, pulling just out in front of him.

Bellamy had to shake his head to try and regroup, urging his own horse to follow. 

Jaha hadn’t died?

Internal conflict raged like a fire within him the rest of the way. He could barely shake it from his mind as she paced out how far away they could be from the tracks before he carefully placed the bomb right on the ledge. He’d seen the pass multiple times; he knew how deep it gouged into the landscape. He could only pray he didn’t drop it with the sweat collecting on his palms. 

Once placed, he quickly urged Apollo back to meet Raven. They nodded in unison in acknowledgement of the first part being completed. So far so good: they hadn’t accidentally blown themselves up or dropped it and wasted all of the gunpowder.

But now it was time for the most crucial part.

The bomb looked so small from this far away. The near-rusted can looked like it would blow away in the desert wind, to join the dancing tumbleweeds that occasionally blew through. And if it wasn’t for being laden down by gunpowder, it would have.

“You ready?” Raven’s floated over to him, and for the first time since he’d met her, she sounded nervous. 

Glancing over at her, he realized with surprise that her face had grown pale compared to the normal deep tan she had. Her eyes looked red and he realized with a sinking feeling that she’d caught the illness. She hadn’t seemed to pick up on it though and he wanted them to both feel as confident as they could, so he just nodded. 

Maybe it was his imagination, that he could hear a distant train echoing through the canyons. Maybe it was nerves roaring in his ears as he slowly lowered himself to the ground, pulling his rifle up from where he’d placed it on the ground. Was the ground rumbling from an impending arrival or was it his heart thudding against the dirt? His rifle had been a part of the bribe to shoot Jaha, one of the newest models that the militias used with new advancements like a scope. He wasn’t even sure if the small piece of glass was enough to do much compared to normal, but he appreciated the distance it gave them now. Even though he knew they’d still feel the effects of the explosion.

They’d have to move quickly and he wasn’t sure how much longer Raven was going to be able to support herself if the illness took over quickly. 

He let out his breath slowly, trying to find a rhythm with it. He lowered his head, closing his left eye he peered through the scope. 

The bomb came into view again, this time a bit closer in view to him.

He did his best to relax into this otherwise uncomfortable position.

Despite him missing Jaha, an error that was now feeling more and more like his consciousness had gotten in the way, Bellamy knew he was a good shot. One of the best he knew, one of the few compliments he was able to give himself freely.

He extended his pointer finger out, feeling the cold metal of the gun. Behind him, he could hear Raven do her best to disguise a wet sounding cough. 

It was now or never.

He pulled the trigger.

In the evening hours, it was impossible to see the bullet’s trajectory. He didn’t bother to even strain himself to see if he could spot it. He instead leapt to his feet, turning to face Raven to see if she needed any help.

And that was when the bullet struck.

The heat of the desert was omni-present during the day, almost impossible to miss. This was hotter than the hottest day he’d ever experienced, the sound of the explosion ricocheting through the air while scorching heat blazed into the night. They were just barely out of reach, Bellamy’s ears ringing as he and Raven scrambled over to the horses. He could see her nose beginning to bleed, but she pushed through it stubbornly. Knowing it would be futile to push her, he helped strap her in tightly onto her saddle, pulling his bandana back up over his mouth as he did, before quickly climbing up onto his own horse.

As they galloped back to the town, urging their horses to go as quickly as they could. Behind them, the ground shook with the explosion as it devoured the train tracks and the precarious wooden structure supporting it over the Floukru river below. Crackling, splintering bursts of wood as the chain reaction of fire carried its way across the one way to get over the pass from here. 

Bellamy’s curls still felt singed the further away they got, the night air cooling everything but his adrenaline coursing through him.

It was all they could do to pray that there hadn’t actually been a train hurtling its way to a now empty gorge, waiting to swallow it in its depths below.

Finally up ahead the lights of the small town appeared on the horizon. The dots of light felt so warm compared to the desolate emptiness that had greeted him and Octavia when they’d first arrived, it surprised him with the emotion it pulled from him as he sighed with relief. They were able to slow themselves down, Raven sagging against her horse in exhaustion from holding on so tightly as they’d rushed through the night.

The horses moved instinctively through the graves once they reached the outskirts of town and Bellamy heard a cheer rise up as the spotters he’d assigned located them arriving underneath the glow of their lanterns. 

Following a commotion, the two of them were swarmed by those who were still standing and (relatively) healthy. Clamoring around them, a few exclaiming and pointing behind them. Even in the fall of the evening and the distance between them and the train tracks, the plume of smoke was apparent against the sky. A dark, curling cloud of black smoke that signified the wreckage they’d created of the bridge. 

It was a temporary victory, one they took with stride.

Even though they still had to be on guard, still keep an eye out, a new festive spirit rang through the town. Someone shoved something in Bellamy’s hand (it reeked of moonshine and he had a hunch that Jasper and Monty were behind it). He made sure to order everyone to only drink a little bit, but it was impossible to shake the grin off of his face. Even Octavia was proud, yanking him into a tight hug.

And then Clarke appeared to yell at everyone to get back to work and there were good-natured grumblings abound. And then he really couldn’t stop smiling, seeing her back on her feet again.

And so they waited. 

The late night hours blurred into midnight and midnight became the earlier hours of the morning, still more nightfall than closer to sunrise. The only indication that time was moving was the moon overhead, arching higher and higher before beginning its slow descent.

Bellamy and Clarke had one of the early morning shifts. He wasn’t sure how they’d managed to time it, but he smiled as he saw her waiting out near the front of the town with her rifle. Her own smile back at him was so affectionate that he almost had to look away.

“Raven told me why you’re on the run,” Clarke commented after a while.

He flinched, unable to help but expecting the worst. Raven hadn’t seemed to mind, but she wasn’t the one in charge of everything. Maybe Clarke, who had been working to develop the partnership between two towns, would be horrified that she’d been harboring a fugitive who had threatened that. Maybe getting Jaha to help them out was more important than whatever he was to her. A simple stranger in the wild who’d stumbled upon them, dragging his sister with him.

“I should have been the one to tell you,” he said, angry more at himself than he was at Raven. Clarke deserved to know the truth.

She hummed. “I suppose.” 

He was surprised at her lack of anger and looked over at her in surprise.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Her question felt genuine and she turned to look at him, serious but contemplative. He shrugged.

“Being here… it felt like I had a purpose again. I think this day is the longest I’ve gone without thinking about what I had done. Being here, I felt like myself. Not a criminal, or a bandit. Whichever one they’ve chosen to label me as. And to talk about it felt like it would have changed the way people saw me here.”

“And how do you see yourself?”

He hadn’t expected the question to feel so raw as he tried to process it.

“Even knowing he didn’t die, I still feel like a murderer,” he finally replied lowly. “I’m a killer on the run and if he finds out I’m here, I’ll ruin your chance of a treaty between you all, them, and Trikru.”

“But you didn’t kill Jaha,” Clarke swore, turning to now fully face him. “You’re not a murderer. And whatever it was they did to convince you to do it, you didn’t succeed. Sometimes in this world, we do what we have to do, and you protected you and your sister. And then you came here, helped us and saved even more lives by blowing up the tracks. That’s who you are, Bellamy. Not a murderer.” 

She was breathing heavily after her passionate speech and he found himself at a loss for words. 

“And you don’t––you don’t have to leave,” she said quietly under her breath, dodging his stare. Even in the faint light of the early hours, the spread of indigo lightening the sky as dawn expanded across the horizon, he could a faint blush tingeing her cheeks.

When he still didn’t say anything, she stole a peek back at him. He could see the courage rising up in her again.

“I’ll be able to speak with Jaha. He trusts me. We don’t have any plans for anyone from Arkadia to come out here, this is our town, but I have a feeling I could get that warrant taken off of you. I know without a bounty on your head, you could go anywhere you want but,” she looked away again, “you’d be welcome to call this place your home if you wanted to. We could use you.”

Her voice grew softer. “I could use you here.”

Rather than answer right away, Bellamy reached his hand out and tentatively took hers. She glanced down at it and then back up at him. There aren’t any words needed after that. 

Another hot day dawned across the west and later that day, in the shade of Raven’s office in an empty house, Clarke typed out a telegram to have the bounty removed from his and Octavia’s heads. And as they worked together to fortify the town, Bellamy found himself at ease for the first time in a long time. Even with Mount Weather’s threat still looming in the distance, he was allowing himself to be happy.

And he had a feeling with this group, and with him as Clarke’s newly appointed co-leader, he had a hunch that this was only the beginning. 

**Author's Note:**

>  **where else you can find me:** [Tumblr](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](https://twitter.com/the_river_held) | [my carrd](https://she-who-the-river-could-not-hold.carrd.co/)


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